


sunsets and suffering

by SpectralSkyscraper



Series: judas and his betrayal [3]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: 90s crime babies, And gets one!!, Angst, Blood, Injury, Killing, M/M, Michael actually!!! Shows affection!!!, More motels yo, Murder, Organized Crime, Super 8 is basically their home at this point, Trevor needs a hug, cop killing, kinda angsty, young!Trikey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 20:32:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12154248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpectralSkyscraper/pseuds/SpectralSkyscraper
Summary: A rough day at work leaves Trevor in need of support.





	sunsets and suffering

**Author's Note:**

> this was real hard to write  
> pls b nice to me  
> reminder that this series is not in chronological order  
> i love my 90s crime baby bois  
> i do not condone the murder of police just fyi   
> but trev and mike sure do  
> this took 3 days to write why was this one so hard   
> lemme know if i fucked up i dont have a beta

Trevor is leaned halfway out of the passenger seat's window with his feet hooked over the center console to keep him from tipping over.

 

It's just himself and Michael tonight: Brad was too hungover to pull this job with them this time and Lester's feeling too ill to do anything but monitor the car's movements through it's GPS on his computer.

 

Speaking of the car- it's jolting with every bump and swerve and Trevor has just about fucking had it with trying to aim the heavy M16 rifle at one of the 13 police cars chasing them down I-90. They're a little farther south from Yankton than usual, somewhere in North Dakota. Just another nowhere-town bank job gone wrong.

 

Trevor grumpily digs the toe of his right boot into Michael's side, who swerves the car once more in retaliation with a pained grunt.

 

Trevor can't see Michael's face with the way he's hanging out the window and can't exactly hear what he says over the _takka_ _-_ _takka_ _-_ _takka_ of his assault rifle but he's absolutely sure it was a biting insult directed at him and he grins.

 

The car speeds more steadily down the interstate so Trevor counts it as a win. 

 

The grin drops off his face when one of the cruisers pulls up parallel to their piece of shit Mustang. Trevor quickly falls back into his seat as the cop car slams into the Mustang's passenger side window- where Trevor was not seconds ago.

 

Trevor glances at Mikey next to him who's just starting to look a little worried, but in his special, subtle way. The way where he grips the steering wheel just a little tighter and steadfastly keeps his eyes on the road. Michael's hands do not shake. 

 

The setting sun illuminates his sky blue eyes and spreads a pink-orange glow across his face. Trevor takes a moment to appreciate the magnificence that is Michael. Trevor would die for this man. And then the cruiser slams into their car again, sending Trevor's nose into the dashboard with a surprised cry from Michael.

 

Trevor would die for this man, but he doesn't plan on doing it today. He can feel the blood gushing from his nose and trickling slowly from a gash on his forehead and he numbly drops his empty M16 onto the floor of the car.

 

He pulls out a handgun that he always carries on him from his waistband and pulls himself back-first out of the passenger window again, so that he sits on the base of the window with his legs in the car and his arms bracing the roof.

 

He's calm. He can hear Michael yelling at him to get back in the car, but he's calm. He aims the Smith & Wesson he swiped from his old man 6 years ago at the tires of the car that's been smashing into them- it's drifted a little farther behind them now- and fires a total of three times.

 

The first bullet shoots smartly into the first car's right front tire, and the second flies at the cop in the driver's seat of the cruiser just behind it. The third and final bullet goes into the gasoline tank of the first car that's made an improvised roadblock along with the second car, stopping the bulk of the police cars that have been ruining their evening.

 

Trevor belatedly thinks that the way the cars all burst into blood and fire and screaming is technically mass murder. Trevor is a mass murderer. When he climbs back into the car and glances at the bags and bags of cash in their backseat and turns to stare at Michael- who's still beautiful and still unharmed, Trevor finds he doesn't mind all that much.

 

The road is deafeningly quiet now that they don't have a tail on them. They pull into a side road of suburban houses and switch cars, quick and quiet. They drive for an hour and a half in their procured Sedan, money safely packed into the trunk, and switch cars a third time, just to be safe.

 

It's been dark for a long time, hours now, and the sun begins it's lazy rise from the horizon. With the pale light finally splitting the darkness of the car, Michael looks over at Trevor for the first time in hours and balks.

 

"Holy shit T, your face!"

 

Trevor is offended for a split second before remembering that his nose and the dashboard has gotten nicely acquainted with one another earlier. He licks some blood from his lip and tenderly pokes at his nose.

 

"It's fine Mikey, doesn't even hurt anymore."

 

Michael purses his lips and reaches over without drawing his eyes away from the road-

 

-and promptly flicks Trevor right in his very, very sore nose.

 

Trevor hisses and cups his face with both hands, little, angry tears pricking his eyes.

 

"What the fuck, M!?"

 

Mikey sighs in a sort of annoying 'told ya' so' way.

 

"Don't even hurt, Mikey.", Michael mocks as he pulls into a dilapidated Super 8. 

 

Trevor tries to help bring the cash inside once they've gotten a room, (the dispassionate teen behind the counter didn't blink twice at Trevor's bloody face) but Michael sends him in to sit down, grumbling something about how Trevor looks like he's about to 'pass the fuck out from blood loss'.

 

Trevor thinks that's hilarious until he loses his balance trying to kick his boots off and falls (thankfully) onto the bed. He can't find the motivation to get up, and stays flopped on his back, shoes still on.

 

That's how Michael finds him when he finally comes back. Trevor's eyes drift to Michael, who sits on the bed and begins dabbing at the cut on Trev's head with a cotton swab- gently. Trevor sits up in the darkness of the motel room and that's when all what just transpired hits him.

 

Trevor could have died. _Michael could have died._ They still might if they don't get rid of their last stolen car soon.Trevor takes a shaky breath and looks up under his lashes at Michael, who drops the cotton swab and pulls Trevor close in an uncharacteristic moment of tenderness.

 

Trevor drops his head to Michael's shoulder and has half a mind to apologize for the blood stain he will leave there. He doesn't though because he's too busy suppressing tears of anxiety and pain from his various bumps and bruises.

 

Michael pets a hand over Trevor's head, combing through his hair- its down to his shoulders now. Trevor curls his fingers in Michael's windbreaker and is still.

 

"Shh, T. I got you."

 

Trevor nods quietly in response.

 

 

Trevor believes him.

 


End file.
